


Saturday Afternoon

by Kass



Category: Toby Daye - Seanan McGuire
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/pseuds/Kass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once he was in the right headspace, wii swordfighting wasn't entirely unlike cat-and-mouse games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturday Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kouredios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kouredios/gifts).



"This isn't actually how swordfighting works," Quentin complained.

"Noted," Raj said as he swung the wii controller and hit the button combination which would result in a swipe at Quentin's avatar's midsection. Raj's avatar was a robot cat. Quentin had chosen the blond fighter pilot who smoked cigarettes. (The first time Toby had seen which avatars they'd each chosen, she had laughed until she had to sit down.)

Raj wasn't sure which character was supposed to be superior, in game terms, but he definitely had an edge on Quentin. The courtly arts that Raj had learned hadn't involved this kind of weaponry, so as far as he was concerned, this was just a bunch of buttons to toggle. Mastering combinations of As and 1s and 2s and the little plus-shaped one at the top of the controller wasn't difficult.

Once he was in the right headspace, wii swordfighting wasn't entirely unlike cat-and-mouse games. Misdirect, feint, pounce. Disembowel. Win. Quentin, on the other hand, seemed to expect the game to have some resemblance to what one did with a broadsword. Which was clearly not to his advantage. Not that Raj was complaining.

"Aw, come on," Quentin muttered, yanking his controller and then thrusting it toward the screen, aiming a blow at Raj's avatar's knees. He was telegraphing his intentions, which made escape easy. Raj pressed a button and the animated robot cat did a graceful backflip to move out of his way. "I mean, do you think any of the programmers responsible for this travesty has ever actually picked up a sword?"

"Doubt it," Raj agreed, hitting more buttons. Swing and thrust and _there_ \--

"Oak and _ash_ ," Quentin cursed as Cid Highwind went down. "That's the third time in a row!" Quentin flopped back onto the couch, clearly frustrated.

"You lasted longer this time," Raj offered, by way of consolation, but Quentin scowled at him. Okay, that didn't seem to be what Quentin needed to hear. So Raj tried advice, instead, perching on the arm of the sofa with his controller dangling from its wrist-strap. "Look, you have to stop thinking of this as though it were an actual swordfight. The game operates according to its own logic. I don't think it's actually, you know, bound by the laws of physics."

"Yeah, thanks, I figured that part out," Quentin said dryly. "I just haven't quite figured out how to stop thinking of it as a swordfight. I spent a long time developing those instincts. I can't just shut them off."

Raj briefly contemplated offering him a different wii game, one where the playing field might be a bit more level, but didn't. If Quentin wanted to play something else, he was perfectly capable of asking. And Raj didn't want to give him the sense he was coddling him. Besides, kicking his ass was actually pretty fun.

The doorbell rang. "Delivery," a male voice called from outside the house.

"Did you order something?" Quentin asked.

"I smell pizza," Raj noted. "But no, I didn't."

"The order would be mine," said Tybalt smoothly, startling Quentin, who hadn't realized he was standing there. "Ours," he amended, after a moment. "Toby's choice."

"Which means..." Raj prompted.

"Bacon and onion," Quentin said automatically.

Raj wrinkled his nose. "That sounds odd to me."

"It's not," Quentin assured him fervently. "Believe me. Even if the American definition of bacon isn't what I think it ought to be. It's really good." He swallowed; his mouth had to be watering.

Raj was pretty hungry too, come to think of it. Damn. Because this might not be Court, but certain protocols were in play no matter where they were. Outside of extraordinary cirtcumstances, like extreme blood loss or starvation, a prince did not ask to share the dinner of the King of Cats. It just wasn't done.

Tybalt glanced from Quentin to Raj, eyes amused, and then moved through the room with purpose, stepping gracefully around the fallen throw pillows and stacks of paperback books which passed for Toby's idea of interior decorating. His appearance shifted as the scent of his magic rose. Neither boy said anything while Tybalt was in the entry hallway relieving the delivery guy of his cargo.

Raj could hear a murmured conversation and the sound of the door closing. When Tybalt returned, he looked like himself again and he was carrying two pizza boxes.

"Because Toby likes you," he said grandly, depositing one box on the living room table in front of the couch where Quentin and Raj were sitting with their controllers.

"Thank you," Raj said, dipping his head briefly in a feline gesture of submission. If he'd been in cat form, he would have been winding around Tybalt's ankles purring. But changing shape just to be affectionate seemed excessive (and giving Tybalt a hug in human form was right out) so he didn't.

"We appreciate it," Quentin added. "A lot."

Tybalt's smile was sharp but fond. "Don't knock," he advised, and turned to take the other pizza into Toby's room.

"We wouldn't," Quentin muttered, _sotto voce_ , after he was gone. "We have _some_ self-preservation instincts."

"He probably heard that," Raj pointed out.

"Yeah, I know." Quentin put his controller down. "But given the choice between holing up all afternoon wth Toby, and coming back out here to box my ears, I'm pretty sure time with Toby's gonna win."

Raj shrugged one shoulder, unconcerned. Whether or not Tybalt put up with Quentin's occasional familiarity was really not his problem. Eating lunch was a much higher priority than worrying about whether or not Toby's other squire was getting himself into trouble with Raj's liege. Besides, Raj had the feeling Tybalt regarded both of them as young cats under his care, which meant the occasional display of insouciance was probably encouraged.

"Truce until we've eaten some pizza?" Quentin offered, reaching to flip back the cardboard lid. The fragrance of melted cheese and crisped shards of pork rose like a spell around them. Raj's stomach grumbled audibly.

"You're on," Raj agreed, and reached for a slice.


End file.
